


Unsaid

by kuro



Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro/pseuds/kuro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony gets more than just a little hurt during a battle. He also has the world's worst timing. </p>
<p>[Two prompts from tumblr I rolled into one single story.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I think you missed your calling.

**Author's Note:**

> brandnewfashion asked for: Steve/Tony: "I think you missed your calling."
> 
> I'm really sorry for the unexpected amount of angst. ;_; Luckily, there is a second chapter.

“I think you missed your calling,” Tony suddenly informs him after several minutes of silence.

“…are you _really_ trying to turn this into a joke,” Steve grits out between clenched teeth. This _has_ to be the moment where Tony remembers he actually has a sense of humour.

“No, I just think you’re doing this pretty well,” Tony replies with a wonky smile. “Should have hired you as my private nurse a long time ago.”

Steve takes a deep breath, swallows his anger and the urge to shout at Tony, and concentrates on stopping the bleeding as best as he can, instead.

Despite what Tony says, this is neither his calling, nor is he doing pretty well. Tony is lying on the ground somewhere in the middle of nowhere, bleeding out, and Steve can’t stop the bleeding. He has no idea where his teammates are ~~, and whether they are still alive or not~~. Communication is down. Tony’s armour is out of commission. There is absolutely nothing about this situation that doesn’t scream ‘worst case scenario’, other than maybe that the foes they were fighting are all dead now.

Tony has assured him that just before the armour went down, it sent out a distress signal. But Steve honestly isn’t sure if Tony only said that to calm him down. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And even _if_ the signal went out, he doesn’t know if anyone out there is able to come looking for them. Or if they will find them if they are, actually. If they are going to find them _on time_.

He desperately wishes it wasn’t him here. Maybe Thor, who could simply carry Tony out of here. To safety and help. The only thing Steve can do is try to keep Tony alive long enough for help to arrive. Help that might never arrive, that is.

Fresh blood is still bubbling out of the wound on Tony’s side and stains the makeshift bandage red. Steve’s hands start shaking as he tries to put more pressure on the wound.

_Stop_ , he mentally orders. _Stop_. _Please stop._

“Hey… Steve,” Tony quietly calls out to him. His voice is cracking a little, and he coughs. A few drops of blood slowly trickle out of the corners of his mouth. “There’s something-”

“No,” Steve interrupts him forcefully, dangerously close to shouting despite his earlier efforts. “You are not doing that. Save your breath for breathing. I know what you’re doing. You think you’re going to die, so _you are going to tell me something that you never dared to tell me and then you’ll die and leave me behind, alone and thinking about your last words over and over again and making me regret we never talked about it before and YOU ARE A FUCKING EGOISTICAL ASSHOLE DO YOU THINK I’M GOING TO LET YOU DIE!_ ”

He’s breathing heavily now. They know each other so well, but sometimes, Steve just has absolutely no idea what exactly is going on inside of that brain. A genius’ brain. And idiot’s brain. Tony’s brain.

Now is not the time to find out.

“Sssh, Steve,” Tony murmurs gently. “Ssssh.”

He reaches out with a slightly shaking hand and caresses Steve’s cheek with his thumb. That is the moment where Steve realises his cheeks are wet. Is he crying?

He is.

It has always been like this, hasn’t it? Nobody can break him quite like Tony does.

“Please, Tony,” he begs, taking Tony’s hand into his own, pressing it to his face. He doesn’t even care he’s begging now. He needs Tony to understand. “Don’t leave me alone. I need you by my side.”

“Never leave you,” Tony mumbles. “And I told you before. You just didn’t hear.”

He smiles up at Steve, bloody mouth and gently sparkling eyes.

“I love you,” he says, and then he slowly goes limp.


	2. Everything's going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onemuseleft wanted: Stony, "Everything’s going to be fine."
> 
> I actually managed to turn this one around, yay!

The regular beeping calms Steve’s heart. It’s almost funny, since noisy medical devices aren’t really his favourite, usually. Right now, however, every beep gives him a bit of relief when it finally comes. As long as the rhythmical sound doesn’t turn into a single continuous tone, everything is alright.

He still can’t quite trust his own senses that tell him that this is reality, that he is here and not out there in the middle of nowhere.

But the beeping definitely helps. He can’t imagine his own imagination coming up with a sound quite _that_ annoying.

*

He had been so terrified that Tony would die right there on that cold patch of earth, slowly bleeding out while Steve couldn’t do anything but watch.

Right after his ~~confession~~ admission, Tony had passed out, his breath shallow and his heart barely beating anymore, and Steve had thought that was it. He had spent a seemingly endless amount of time sitting next to Tony’s still body in agony and fear, fearing that this was the end. And then, against all hope, a quinjet had arrived. At first, Steve had been convinced that his brain was making all of it up, desperately wishing for someone, _anyone_ , to save them.

But the quinjet _had_ landed close-by and Natasha _had_ stepped out of it, assessing the situation on the fly. Wordlessly and quickly, she had helped Steve carry Tony on board the quinjet, strapping him to one of the emergency cots. A few moments later, they had already been on their way. With determination and skill, she had coaxed every last bit of speed out of the quinjet to reach the nearest hospital in time. Thankfully, she hadn’t bothered with any questions and had simply let Steve sit next to Tony, pressing his hands on the bleeding wound and praying that Tony would survive the trip.

They had made it in time. Barely. Tony had flatlined twice in the hospital, and the staff hadn’t been prepared to handle someone with a piece of high tech equipment embedded in his chest. The surgeon had carefully explained to Steve that it was surprising he had even made it to the hospital alive, considering the internal injuries he had sustained. He had been in surgery for hours, Steve standing outside the whole time, waiting for any kind of news and getting more agitated the longer it took.

The moment the surgeon had finally appeared and given him a small smile, Steve had felt very close to fainting out of sheer relief.

*

Tony, by all means, should be dead.

Blood loss, internal injuries, already existing health problems, he really should be dead.

He _isn’t_.

He hasn’t regained conciousness yet, but he has made it through the rescue and the surgery alive, which the doctors say is making them ‘reservedly hopeful’. Well, they might have said more than that, but Steve refuses to acknowledge anything else. Tony has pulled through so far, and he will stay alive or god help him. Natasha smirks a little every time she looks at him and sees the mulish expression on his face, but honestly, he doesn’t care for anyone’s opinion right now. He is right. He _has to_ be right.

It’s probably that same mulish expression that prevents anyone to say anything about the fact that he’s still sitting here after who knows how many hours. All of the Avengers have visited him already, checking up on Tony (and him, he knows), giving him their report. It turns out all the others were extremely lucky and got away with only scratches and bruises for the most part, a head injury and two broken bones the only exception. Steve would feel extremely relieved, if Tony wasn’t lying his hospital bed right in front of him, impossibly pale and still.

“He’s going to be alright,” Natasha says, gently squeezing his neck, getting ready to leave for the night. Steve only grunts. She has stayed with him most of the time, and he feels bad for dismissing her like that. But he doesn’t think he can manage anything even close to an actual conversation at the moment. Natasha shakes her head, murmurs something that might be ‘ _men_ ’, and leaves him alone with Tony.

Steve keeps staring at Tony’s face, willing him to wake up.

*

Steve must have fallen asleep at some point, because he suddenly awakes with a start. For a moment, Steve is disoriented, but then he realises he is still sitting in a chair next to a hospital bed and is currently drooling onto the cover of said bed. There is also a hand in his hair, petting him slowly.

He looks up. Tony is lying right there, looking like hell warmed over, but he’s definitely awake. And alive. And he is smiling at Steve.

A strong emotion is suddenly burning in Steve’s chest, and he can feel his eyes grow wet.

Right now, he doesn’t care.

“Tony,” he says, “oh god, _Tony_.”

“Not dead, huh,” Tony muses, his smile growing. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Steve pulls out from under Tony’s hand and gets out of his chair, stepping closer to Tony’s bed. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out and touches Tony’s face, stroking his cheek, tracing the lines of his face. Tony looks well and truly exhausted, and Steve has to quickly tamp down on the urge to bundle Tony up, lock him away somewhere safe and make sure he never, ever gets hurts again.

_Maybe some temporary bundling up and locking away can be managed_ , he idly ponders.

“Did you mean it?” Steve finally asks, softly pressing his thumb to the corner of Tony’s mouth for a moment.

“How could I possibly not?” Tony asks back, turning his head a little and giving Steve’s thumb a small kiss. He doesn’t specify which one he means: not mean it or not love him.

It’s probably both, Steve suddenly realises with uncanny clarity. There is quite possibly no way Tony could not love him. Those are Tony’s true feelings.

He leans down and gives Tony a kiss on the forehead. And then several others because Tony is _alive_ and he can’t help himself.

He presses their foreheads together.

“Don’t think I’m not going to absolutely chew you out once you get better,” Steve warns, cradling Tony’s head in his hands.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Tony answers lightly, coughing a little and closing his eyes. Steve realises someone should probably check on Tony. Why hasn’t the nurse come yet?

When he starts pulling away, Tony blindly reaches out for him once more.

“But everything’s going to be fine,” Tony quietly adds and smiles. “I’m kind of sure of that.”

“Why are _you_ the one comforting _me_?” Steve huffs, but he leans in and gives Tony a kiss anyway.

He’d like to think he has the time.


End file.
